


Undertow

by S_Faith



Series: Undercurrents/Undertow [2]
Category: Bridget Jones (Movies), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-16
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-11-20 11:12:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18125240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Faith/pseuds/S_Faith
Summary: Had Bridget's mum not interrupted her train of thought…. (Bridget's shag flashback (post-Quicksilver hookup) continues.)





	Undertow

**Author's Note:**

> A "deleted scene" from _[Undercurrents](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17897423/chapters/42250019)_.
> 
> Disclaimer: Holy crap, _so_ not canon. (Or mine, for that matter.)

_"Oh, yes."_

His fingers traced light lines over her collarbones before going down her arms. He took her hands, then walked backwards, further into the flat, drawing her into the bedroom. Just like she'd done to get him to the dance floor.

He then pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She felt his hands move down to her backside—punctuated with "All right?" and her breathless response in the affirmative—to find the bottom hem of her skirt, to slip it up and to tease the backs of her thighs as he nuzzled into her neck.

"Ohh," she breathed.

He chuckled throatily against her cheek. "I like the boots." One hand moved down to tease the skin at the top edge of the boot. "Sexy. Mm. Shall I do something about these?" His finger then moved to trace along the edge of her lacy pants.

"Yes."

His thumbs hooked the sides and tugged firmly down, sending them down over the boots  and to the floor. 

"That's better," he said, caressing the skin on her bottom, placing open-mouthed kisses on her neck. She realised they had moved when he sat on the edge of the bed, and he pulled her to straddle his lap. His fingers fell to her knee, moved a little bit upwards. Again he asked, "All right?"

"Yes, yes," she said. "Please. Oh God."

This final utterance she made as he kissed her deeply and touched his fingers between her legs; involuntarily her hips twitched at the touch, as he slipped them over her, teasing back and forth, teasing her again and again. She groaned in pleasure. Those long, smooth, slender fingers…

"Can I… can I…" she managed, her hand on his hip moving to the front of his trousers.

"Mm-hm," he said, and she pressed her palm against the hardness there, tugging down the zipper, slipping her own fingers in. Jesus, was he ready to go. He groaned. "Fuck," he growled, then pulled back.

"Sorry."

"Not that," he said. "Pocket. Condom." He dug into his own pocket, fumbling out a wrapped packet, which he nearly dropped; she took it from him and tore it open. 

He held his hand out for it. "Can't promise what'll happen if you do it," he said quietly as he managed the task, then met her gaze. "If you're ready, I'm—"

"Ready."

With her knees on the edge of the bed she lifted herself up then leaned down to kiss him as she scooted forward and, with her hand guiding the way, lowered until she felt him against her. Then in her. Filling her pleasurably.

"Oh _god_ ," she managed, breaking away, sinking down; she felt him exhale and grasp her hips. She stopped, rose slightly, then lowered again, working in a rhythm that made her pulse race. 

"Further," he gasped, "if you can."

It took a moment to realise what he meant—take him to the hilt—and as she did, she moaned, her head dropping back. His lips met the skin of her throat as he pulled down hard on her hips, then she felt his teeth grazing gently.

So close.

And then she felt his lips upon her bared breast before he took the bead of her very hard nipple between his teeth with just enough pressure to—

Waves of climax crashed into her and she cried out; his hands moved to press into her back as he groaned, thrusting up into her before another low moan signalled he had come, too.

She fell forward against him, and he fell back onto the bed; both of them were panting to regain their breath. She heard him whisper, "Amazing."

Indeed.

He turned so that they were each on their sides; he brushed the hair back from her face, then traced along her brow and cheek, before moving to tenderly cover her breast with a hand. "Didn't hurt you, did I?"

"Only in the best possible way," she said. "Have a question."

"Ask away."

"Have you got more of those?"

He laughed low in his throat. "Yes."

"Glad to hear it," she said.

"What if I hadn't?"

"I would have offered my own."

He had a terrific laugh; suddenly, he turned so that she was more or less beneath him.

"Go on," she said, encouraging him to kiss her. He did, but then drew back. 

"What?"

With a smile, he said, "We're still wearing too much."

Carefully he pushed himself up and away from her; she rolled to sit on the edge of the bed while he loosened and removed his tie, and started unbuttoning his shirt. She pushed off of her boots, then rose to her feet to push the miniskirt over her hips and to the floor. Normally she didn't like undressing in front of a lover, but it was dim enough in there that she didn't feel like a spotlight was on her. 

"Why don't I help with that?"

She felt his hands on her waist at the bottom of the hem of her shirt, from where he stood behind her. He then grasped the hem and pulled the shirt up over her head, tossed it aside, then placed his hands on her stomach.

"All right?" he asked.

"Oh, yes."

At that, he began to nuzzle into her neck. She put her hands atop his to guide them over her hips; she leant back and tilted her head away from him to allow him easier access for his ministrations. His fingers played along her thighs, and as they swept upwards towards the most tender skin, she gasped in pleasure with another, "Yes."

When those fingers pressed upwards, her knees nearly buckled beneath her; she moaned at the touch, at the rhythmic strokes, at the feel of his arousal hard against her lower back. His other hand came up to cup her breast, to tease the nipple. Between the two points of pleasure, she was close to reaching climax.

Suddenly, he stopped, withdrawing his hands. He stepped back. He didn't need to explain this time. Protection. She glanced back over her shoulder, caught him focused on the task at hand, until he finished and looked back up at her, meeting her gaze.

"How do you feel about…" he began, then stepped closer, pressing a kiss on the back of her shoulder, placing his hands on her hips again, brushing his fingers across her abdomen again. There was that pressure on her backside again.

Oh, she understood what it was that he was asking.

She put her hands on his again then took a step towards the bed, onto which she then climbed and kneeled. His hands moved down again, down the fronts of her thighs, then back up between her legs again.

"How's that?" he murmured.

She hoped the sound she made adequately conveyed how much she approved.

"So bloody sexy," he said quietly, closer to her ear, as he began caressing her breast again, pressed himself against her. His hand came away then began stroking her again from behind her; she was about to demand he fuck her, already, when he did just that.

She groaned, bracing herself up; his hands on her hips pulled her into him with every thrust. The position was optimal for pleasure, and it didn't take long for her to get close to coming again. When the climax hit her, she gasped; her elbows went weak. His pace seemed to increase until he, too, reached culmination, and he placed his mouth against her shoulder. The gentle graze of his teeth on her skin further heightened her pleasure until finally, he slowed, stopped, and then withdrew from her slowly, disposing of the condom, before taking her up into his arms, pushing the sheets aside, rolling them over, and then covering her mouth with his.

She thought he might doze off, as men are wont to do, but he continued kissing her, lavishing her neck and throat with open-mouthed kisses. Before she knew it—prefaced with an "Is this all right?"—his mouth covered one breast, teasing the tip with his tongue and teeth, while his hand caressed the other.

God, she had missed sex, and he was good. Not only good, but—and she couldn't believe she was thinking this— _considerate_. He wanted a partner, wanted explicit consent, wanted to establish boundaries. This wasn't just mindless rutting with no regards for her. He got pleasure from giving it.

"Can't get enough of you," he said, pushing himself up to meet her face to face as they laid side by side, then to kiss her mouth again.

"Mmm," she said as he drew away. "Wouldn't mind making this a habit."

His brow rose. "Hmm?"

She nodded. "Let's say… we meet again at Quicksilver. Next Thursday. Same time. Find me. Dance with me. Bring me back here again."

That gaze of his seemed to bore into her soul. "Yes," he said at last, brushing strands of hair away from her face. "I'd like that. A lot."

"Oh, good." After a pause, she added, "Should we exchange mobile numbers?"

He thought about this for a bit, then said, "I don't think so, no. Because if I had it, I'd be tempted to call you, drop anything else I was doing… you understand, I hope."

 She did understand, and she nodded. "Names?"

"Do we need to?"

She smiled. "I don't suppose we do," she said. "I don't need to know your name, just that I can trust you."

"I hope you do trust me," he said sombrely.

"You've given me no reason not to."

He offered a crooked little smile. "Good," he said, his fingers tracing an arc on her back and hip. "I can assure you that your trust is not misplaced."

She wondered for a second if he was some kind of professor, a detective, or something similar; he seemed so eloquent. She wasn't going to dwell on who he was in real life, though.

She realised that he had said something to her; she snapped back to the present. "Hmm?"

"I was wondering if I can bring you something to drink." He then added, "Sparkling water, wine…?"

She suddenly realised how parched she was. "Sparkling water, please."

"All right." He placed a hand on her face. "Be right back."

He pushed back, got to his feet, tucked a blanket from the chair around his waist, then slipped out of the room; she couldn't help watching him retreat. She rolled back onto the pillow and exhaled. Was a nice bed. Nice sheets. What was this flat, anyway, that he had for his use whenever he needed? She hadn't noticed any photos, but it was dark… could this actually have been his own flat? They hadn't gone over a bridge, so they were still on the north side of the Thames. Mayfair? Fitzrovia?

She knew there was no point in speculating, but she couldn't help herself. 

The door swung open and he came in carrying a tray with two tall glasses of sparkling water as well as a bowl. Red grapes, she noticed, as he got closer.

"I thought you might be a little hungry, too."

She smiled; her eyes lingered not on the fruit, but on the flat plane of his abdomen, right above where the edge of that blanket rested, right where the darker thatch of hair just started to thicken… 

She lifted her gaze to meet his as he handed her the glass; she could tell by the way his gaze had gone smoky with desire that he had seen her looking. She raised the glass to her lips and took a long sip, not breaking the gaze until he turned to set down his own glass as well as the bowl of grapes.

He tossed the blanket aside then climbed back in beside her in the bed. He took a drink, set it down, then grasped the bowl and turned to her. He plucked out a grape and held it up. "Care for one?"

"Ooh, yes please." She opened her mouth and let him place the grape inside. His fingers lingered; she closed her lips around it as he pulled his hand back. After swallowing the grape, she said, "Very good."

"Have another." He held a second grape up for her. As before, his fingers lingered on her mouth, but remained as she finished it, so she turned her head to take his finger between her lips again, grazed her teeth on his finger, and swirled her finger around the fingertip. She watched with delight as his eyelids flickered.

"Surely you'll have one too," she said, then reached for the bowl and plucked up a grape for him. He leaned towards her, opened his mouth to take the grape, but closed his mouth around her finger just as she had done. "Oh," she said suddenly, pulling her finger out slowly. 

"Indeed," he said huskily. "Very good."

"I think I've had enough grapes," she said.

"Agreed," he said. "Have not had enough of you."

He set the bowl aside again, turned back to her.

She reclined back on her elbows, her gaze fixed to his, before resting against the pillow.

"You're more than welcome to have me."

He moved close to her, grasping her hip with a hand, holding himself up on one elbow before leaning down over her, nearly touching noses with her. She lifted her head up enough to place her lips against his, igniting another kiss.

She could not help thinking, and not for the first time, that he was magnificent at kissing; his lips slid over hers, his tongue caressed her lips and mouth, his teeth teased her lips. They broke apart, breathing heavily.

"More," she gasped.

"What do you want." He had a talent for asking a question and making it sound like a thrilling command.

"Kiss me," she said, then trailed a finger over her own throat, down between her own collarbone then between her breasts. 

He began to do just as she asked, placing open-mouthed kisses against her throat, then kissing a trail down to her abdomen. 

"Touch me," she gasped.

"Where?"

"Wherever you want."

He ran his hand over her hip, to her abdomen, then brushed a trail heading to between her legs.

"Here?"

"Yes," she gasped.

She felt his fingers breach the tender skin there, and she groaned as his fingertip brushed over the nexus of nerves, then pressed hard. His knack for remembering the exact right spot reminded her of one of those bloody smart missiles, laser-like in its precision. His mouth found her skin again, kissing, grazing, teasing with his tongue. 

Her climax built quite rapidly again, spurred on by the feel of his hardness against her thigh until the waves of pleasure crashed through her, and she cried out. He stifled her cries with another kiss, which he met with his own moans into her mouth; he moved his hips to thrust against her, obviously aching for release.

"Let me," she said, placing her hand over his, then arcing over his skin towards his hips.

"Yes," he said. "Please."

At the first touch of her fingers upon him he twitched and groaned. He fell back against the pillows as she lifted herself up, grasping him, then stroking up and down, moving slowly, then faster, as she placed kisses on his shoulder, chest, jawline. He tilted his head back, further exposing his throat, and she pressed kisses to his lovely Adam's apple.

His trembling intensified; she could tell he was getting closer to that edge. She moved her attention to the head, and as she did, he thrust forward. "I can't hold back," he said. "Going to come."

"Don't hold back," she said softly, brushing along his length to cup and caress him beneath the erection.

With a long groan he let go, arching his back up as he thrust again and again. She leaned over to kiss him, which he fiercely returned. At last, he finally seemed spent and relaxed against the bed. She pulled herself close to him as they continued to kiss.

He pulled back, still panting for air; she could only wonder idly once more about this man's life, and what led him to such self-control in even intimate situations. "You're a dream come true," he said softly as he turned slightly unfocused eyes towards her, which made her smile, then giggle a little. "Sorry about that."

"Sorry for… coming?" she asked, utterly confused.

"Mm," he said, seeming to confirm, closing his eyes as his breath evened out. "Without protection. Be assured that I do have a clean bill of health…"

"It's all right," she said. "I assume there's a loo around here somewhere."

"Yes," he said. He opened his eyes again. "I'd be happy to demonstrate the shower for you."

She felt a flood of panic. Her hair. Her eye makeup. She liked holding up the illusion of being a glamorous sexpot, but knew it was difficult to stay dry above the shoulders when fooling around in a shower.

"Or the bath," he added. "Your choice."

"Bath?"

He opened his eyes to look at her, then smirked a little. "Bath it is."

He pushed aside the bed covers, then sat up on the edge of the bed. "I'll go draw the water." He stood and reached for that blanket again to cover himself.

"I don't think you need that," she said.

He smiled a little, then she watched his backside as he walked out of the bedroom and, presumably, into the bathroom. She heard the water thunder on, and wondered if the bathtub was big enough for both of them.

 _Could have just washed up in the sink_ , she thought, _but a shag bath? I'll take it._

She got up from the bed and reached for the blanket she had made him discard, then padded out, honing in on the sound of the water. She appeared at the door. The room was lit only by a couple of pillar candles. He was seated on the edge of what appeared to be a two-person, spa-style bathtub. _Goody_ , she thought.

He turned to her, then said in a clipped tone, "I don't think you need that." Obviously he meant the blanket; the hint of a smile told her he was teasing.

She let it fall to the floor.

"Bath's almost filled," he said. He held out his arm. "Come here."

She walked towards him. He slipped an arm around her backside, placed his hand on her hip, so that his head was roughly level with her midsection. "All right?" he asked.

She had no idea what he intended to do, but given their current positions…

He added, "You know that you can always say 'no'."

"I know," she said. "And yes. It's all right."

He pulled her close, then pressed his lips to her abdomen, the rough velvet of his tongue touching her skin, playing with the divot of her navel. She turned slightly, her eyes fluttering at the sensation, involuntarily leaning into him, her fingers combing into his hair. She felt his hand on the back of her leg, then felt it moving higher. 

"Shit, the water."

She opened her eyes, saw him leaning over to switch off the tap. He looked to her.

"You're such a distraction."

"Sorry."

"Not meant as a complaint," he said. "Don't apologise. Why don't you go ahead and get in?"

"Are you joining me?"

"Not sure if that's wise," he said.

She pulled away from him, then stepped over the edge of the bath to get in, then laid back. The water was hot, but not too hot, and he'd poured some kind of bath oil in. Lavender? She could feel it on her skin as she ran her hands over her arms, stomach, breasts.

"I'd really like it if you did," she said, looking up at him.

His eyes had shaded over with that look of desire she had come to know already, then got to his feet and stepped in, too. He laid back and she rested on him, buoyed by the water, and he ran his palms over her oil-sheened skin. She snaked her arms around his neck, came close enough to touch noses.

"May I?" she asked.

"By all means."

Tenderly she placed her lips on his, kissing him tenderly; the kiss very quickly deepened, and his hands cupped her backside, kneading gently. Almost involuntarily, her legs drifted apart at the touch.

"Please," she said. "Touch me."

His fingers played along her arse, then moved down and between her legs. She groaned; she loved the feel of his fingers. She desperately wanted to straddle him, but not here in the tub, not without protection. His movement intensified, his kisses grew hungrier, until she reached climax.

She continued to kiss him as they floated. "Sorry to get you all worked up again," she said, pressing her temple to his cheek.

"I said don't apologise," he said, his hands on her bottom again. "If you're done with the bath, we can get back to where the condoms are."

She offered a smile; the point of the bath hadn't really been to clean up, anyway. "I like the sound of that."

He rose from the bath first, towelled off then wrapped it around his waist—less for body modesty, more for reducing the distraction of his burgeoning arousal—before offering a hand to help her out. He picked up a second towel and offered to dry her, which she accepted. Her skin was pink and warm now.

He slipped an arm around her shoulders for the short walk back to the bedroom. "Go on," he said. "I'll… get another condom."

"Please do," she said. 

She slipped in under the sheets to wait for him, watched him drop the towel, watched him fish out another slender packet before sitting on the bed to slip it on.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Yes."

After a moment, she asked, "So what do _you_ want?"

"You," he said. "In whatever form that is." He then leaned over close enough to kiss her.

"Yes," she said, to his unspoken question, before kissing again.

She still thought about how she'd wanted to straddle him in the bath, and shifted herself so that she might do so. She grasped his hip, pushed so that he was on his back, his head and shoulders slightly propped on the mountain of pillows.

She straddled his thighs and leaned forward, pressing herself against him.

"How's this," she said.

He placed hands on her hips. "Perfect."

With that she began to kiss him, moving on his lap, feeling him growing harder against him. When his hips began to buck up against her, she drew back from him just enough.

With another moan he was fully in her. He moaned, too. She then began to undulate her hips, to rise and fall, to the sounds of utter pleasure coming from his throat. She sped up her pace; he swallowed hard and tilted his head back. She placed her mouth against his shoulder, her teeth lightly against his skin, felt him closer and closer to climax… she was very close to climax herself.

"I'm going to…" he managed. He didn't need to finish. She knew, and within a moment, he had, gripping her waist tight as he thrusted up into her. 

She continued to work circles with her hips. So close, so close. 

"Need a little help?" he asked.

"Please," she said.

She felt his thumb touch between their bodies. Fizz-whoosh. Smart missile had found its mark again. She cried out and came again.

This time, they both could not help but drift off after all of that ecstatic exertion; she realised this when she woke atop him and squinted at the bedside clock. Jesus. It was five in the morning. She needed to get home, shower, get ready for work. Carefully, she drew away from him, which caused him to wake. 

"Should get home. It's getting late. Or early."

He snapped awake, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Christ," he said. "Can I drive you home?"

She shook her head. "I'll ring for a taxi," she said.

"I really don't mind."

"It's not that," she said. "I'd rather… you know. Not give that away."

The light dawned. "Ah. I understand."

"Though, oh, I have no idea where we are."

"I'll ring it for you," he said. "You can let the driver know where you're going."

"Okay." 

It was still relatively dark in the room, but she was able to find her clothing and dress. He dressed, too, much more quickly than she did, and shortly after he left the bedroom, she could smell fresh coffee brewing. After slipping into her boots, stopping to look at herself in the mirror. She'd had worse-looking mornings after. 

She found her way to the kitchen, to where he stood, fully besuited, looking for all the world like a proper gentleman, two cups on the counter next to the cafetière.

"Coffee?" he asked. 

"Yes, please," she said. As he poured, she asked, "Is there milk or sugar?"

"Both," he said, retrieving both for her. "I've phoned for a minicab. It should be here in under twenty minutes."

She stirred the coffee. "Thank you." When she took a sip, she said, "Good coffee." Everything he seemed to do was good.

"Sorry, there doesn't seem to be anything breakfast-like in the pantry," he said.

"That's all right," she said, feeling suddenly quite self-conscious.

They stood quietly drinking the coffee.

"I'm not sure how I'm going to get through the day," he said quietly, looking into his coffee.

She knew what he meant. She didn't regret shagging into the night, but the lack of sleep was going to catch up with her sooner rather than later.

"Through the week, really," he amended, then raised his gaze to look at her. "How I'll get through until next Thursday, when I see you again."

Her face felt hot.

He continued, "I picked the right night to go out to a nightclub."

"Me too," she said. "Went out for my birthday." She said it before she could think better of it.

"Happy birthday," he said. "How lucky for me." He cleared his throat. "You did mean what you said, right? Same time, next week?"

"Absolutely," she said, without hesitation. She smiled, feeling impish. "I'll even wear the boots again if you like."

His eyes flicked down to look at the boots before meeting her gaze again. "I _would_ like that, very much."

"Duly noted," she said. She finished the coffee and set down the cup. "I should probably go down to the street, in case it's early."

He nodded, setting down his empty cup, too. "Well," he said. "Thank you for a night to remember."

She felt suddenly shy. "Thanks," she said. "And it was."

He walked with her to the door. "Would you like me to come down there with you?"

"No, I'll be okay."

He nodded again. "One last question. Is it all right if I kiss you goodbye?" he asked.

"Nothing that might make me miss that taxi."

He chuckled. "Fair enough." He stepped closer, and lowered his head for a tame kiss. "Until next time."

Indeed. It would be all she could do not to count the hours.

### The end.


End file.
